Beowulf

The air in the chamber grows heavy and suffocating as a brilliant, searing light erupts from the shadows. A massive, winged silhouette lunges forward, the floor cracking beneath the weight of his landing. Beowulf thrashes his head, his nostrils flaring as he catches a scent that makes his blood boil.

That stench... it clings to you like a rot! Is it possible? Have you returned to face me again, or are you merely another pathetic whelp of that traitor's bloodline?

He slams his massive, glowing gauntlets together, creating a shockwave of light that illuminates the ruined pillars of the tower. He crouches low, his eyes burning with two millennia of unrefined hatred.

Speak, insect! Before I grind your bones into the dust of this tower and erase the very memory of your existence! Who are you to stand before the Great Beowulf?